Congroo
by vetty123
Summary: This Okabe did not turn back time when Mayuri was shot and Makise was captured. This Okabe remained in a broken world and strove against SERN until he was forced to send a SMS and a child-savior to a different worldline to change things. This…is the untold story of 'Shadow Okabe'. Two-shot. No pairings. Rated for some violence.
1. El

_That which has been is that which will be,  
_ _And that which has been done is that which will be done.  
_ _So there is nothing new under the sun.  
_ – The words of King Solomon the Wise _, Ecclesiastes 1:9 (NASB)_

* * *

 **A/N** : Does nobody wonder exactly who sent Okabe that interesting video clip which allowed him to reach the perfect worldline?

 **Disclaimer** : I own no part of _Steins;Gate_.

 **Warning** : Contains **death** , **violence** , and (worst of all) _**science**_. Be thou forewarned.

* * *

 _Worldline: 1.130209 β,  
_ _Date: February 1st, 2030  
_ _Location: SERN Global Headquarters, France_

The ornate study was largely empty, with only one man present to observe its lush opulence. He sat before his gleaming mahogany desk, monitoring everything that went on within the base using the numerous computer screens arrayed before him. As he watched the video feeds, he shuffled through some papers that lay scattered on his desk, researching everything he could on this new enemy that had arisen so silently.

 _How had it come to this?_

In the beginning, the continents of Africa and South America had been the first to fall completely under control; with only small pockets of resistance from tribal groups that had clung tenuously to their archaic traditions for the last twenty years. Such small uprisings were only to be expected, and were being crushed quite efficiently by SERN's peacekeeping force. After all, no dissidence could be tolerated if a perfect world order was to be achieved.

Unfortunately, North America and Far Eastern Asia had proven themselves far more tenacious, refusing to submit even when faced with the undefeatable trump card of travel through time itself. Eventually, the old and decadent governments had been overthrown through the tireless effort of SERN's operatives, and the formerly organized soldiers had gone underground to become the fledgling Resistance. And now it seemed as though a new insurgency was about to begin in Europe itself.

The man shifted in his seat as he leafed through the files.

As chairman of SERN's European Theater, it was his duty to ensure the supreme dominance of SERN through both time and space. This, of course, meant the immediate submission of any who would dare express views contrary to those of SERN's. Oh, scientific progress marched along proudly – under the banner of SERN, of course: unauthorized experimentation without a license was strictly forbidden and was punishable by death. There were murmurings among the lower elements of the society though; rumors of a terrorist cell in Japan that performed advanced physical experiments. The existence of such a scientist, known only by the whispered name 'Daru Titor', had never been confirmed.

The chairman's responsibility, of course, did not extend to such groundless fantasies. No, his prime directive was to ensure both the survival of the institution no matter what and the continued maintenance of world control. With such weighty duties, he had never been bothered with such trivial affairs - a mistake, in retrospect. Still, he _had_ been busy perfecting the world at the time.

Unfortunately for the world, it appeared that some disruptive elements continued to try to ruin the flawless order that had been created after such diligent labor. Such blind fools could never comprehend the true scope of SERN's magnanimity, and were insistent upon being put into their place through the use of force. _One in particular was growing extremely prominent as of late._

The terrorist group fancifully called 'Valkyrie' had been known to exist in the underbelly of the Japanese sector for quite some time now, but their exploits had been limited to petty sabotage, with the odd assassination thrown in. Mild annoyances, to be sure, but never a serious threat to the almighty power of SERN. It had never been deemed necessary to root them out thoroughly, as they seemed to be limited to East Asia alone.

However, it seemed that they were growing increasingly bold: claiming responsibility for the recent strikes on the Japanese and North American bases that had decimated the ranks of the Organization. The idea was preposterous on the face of it – the attacks had been conducted using a bomb of a caliber so high that it would have taken an insanely skilled engineer to construct it. The very idea of a revolutionary force possessing such an engineer was ridiculous to the extreme, but whispers of 'Daru Titor' continued to float about the rebellious underworld.

Despite their grandiose pretentiousness, SERN was prepared to ferret Valkyrie out and exterminate them: after all, they were the oldest known rebel faction, having made their presence known almost immediately after SERN's assertion of world dominance twenty years ago. They'd continued to survive in the murky shadows of Japan, mere nuisances, never daring to attempt anything potentially threatening other than claiming the patronage of 'Daru Titor'.

However, they had bitten off more than they could chew this time; being arrogant enough to send a public declaration of war to the French center itself – the largest bastion of SERN's power, having never been breached by opposing forces. These arrogant cockroaches had been permitted to exist for far too long, and it was time to put them back in their place.

The chairman had taken immediate steps to secure the French base: all non-essential personnel had been evacuated summarily, and great pains had been taken to guarantee the complete impregnability of the base. He would have preferred to have his ultimate ace in the hole prepared, but it seemed as though time would not be their ally going into this fight.

The warning message itself had been fairly simple: written by a deranged man going by the moniker 'Hououin Kyouma', it swore to take SERN down by any means possible. This man claimed to be the leader of Valkyrie, and said that he was personally going to destroy SERN with his own two hands. Normally, such a message would be disregarded entirely, but reports indicated that the ruined Japanese and American bases had received similar messages before being demolished entirely, so the matter was being treated with all due caution.

The motives for this sudden move by the Resistance were unclear: why had this underground group stepped out of their usual routine of guerilla warfare with little to no warning? After just over a decade of remaining barely alive in the shadows, why were they suddenly moving from brief interactions to full-out extermination? Were they so tired of living that felt the need to seek out a bold way to die?

The message itself claimed that this sudden retaliation was purportedly to avenge the deaths of two people, the names of whom were attached to the bottom of the brief message. Of course, gambling over twenty years of covert work as retaliation for the death of two people was absurd on the face of it, but the identity of the persons themselves gave pause for thought.

There, at the bottom of the list, beneath the usual threats and pointless insults, were two names.

 _Makise Kurisu_ and _Hashida Itaru_. _Deceased_.

* * *

The first person on the list was by far the more famous one, known by every scientist on the planet who was worth their salt. After all, who could forget the original inventor of the time machine itself?

Makise Kurisu, renowned developer of the thesis that had made time travel a viable option, was known world-wide as a precocious genius. A fervent researcher, she was on the cutting edge of time travel technology, developing the latest tools for the manipulation of chronicular events. Having worked under SERN for over nineteen years, she had been seen as a valuable and loyal asset to the Organization.

One month ago, however, it was discovered that she had been in contact with the rebel forces and, judging by her behavior for the past few years, had been feeding them information for quite some time. She was caught sending classified schematics of her very own prototypes to a recipient who had been identified as one 'Daru Titor', the very name that had been associated with the Resistance for so long.

When her secret had been found out, she'd fought her way tooth-and-nail to the Large Hadron Collider, carving her way fanatically to the main mechanism. Upon entering the bowels of the facility, she'd sealed herself in with the Collider and sent a secure transmission to an unknown location, finishing the message and breaking the connection mere seconds before security broke in.

They had been given orders to fire at will.

Surviving security cameras had later revealed that, moments after the guards riddled her with bullets, she'd managed to detonate a black hole bomb hidden in her pocket, completely destroying everything within a fifteen-meter radius of her lead-filled body, including the guards and a large section of the LHC.

Makise Kurisu's final act had crippled SERN's time-travel ability. After all, with no LHC there were no mini-black holes, and hence no time traveling was possible. It was a calculated suicide, one worthy of such an intellect.

The higher-ups knew that Kurisu had been working on a time machine that would be able to operate independently of the Large Hadron Collider, and the chairman had hoped to salvage something from the wreck. However, when her room was opened it was found that she'd remotely detonated another bomb in her office, obliterating all her research and designs.

The vixen had even managed to wipe most of the files on the main data banks, leaving SERN essentially powerless at this point, reliant upon paper reports from the old days. The chairman hated to admit it, but the woman really had gone out with a bang.

Reconstruction on the LHC was being done as fast as possible in order to open a mini-black hole to circumvent this entire mess, but the very foundations of the facility had been torn to shreds by the blast. It had taken twenty full years to build the original structure, and engineering reports had calculated that it would take a good year to finish even a rudimentary construction. Until that year was up, SERN was vulnerable to any setbacks; no longer able to hide behind their invulnerable shield of time.

At the moment, they were weaker than they'd been at any point in the last twenty years. And, what was worse, their enemies probably knew it.

* * *

The second name that the mysterious leader of the Resistance had sworn to avenge, however, was a complete unknown. Although a more detailed write-up had probably been available in the databases, there were only a few files remaining which mentioned the name, none of which reached farther back than 2009. All the records, though, documented the same thing.

This 'Hashida Itaru' appeared to have achieved little in his life, dropping off the grid entirely following involvement with a "Future Gadget Laboratory" that had been broken up over twenty years ago. He was listed as deceased, and had had known affiliations with several unimportant individuals, although he did interact with Makise Kurisu herself for a short period of time. It was the Laboratory, however, that attracted the Chairman's attention.

Data on the Future Gadget Laboratory was limited following the data wipe performed by Kurisu. However, the few paper files that mentioned them reported that it was founded by one 'Okabe Rintarou' (thought to be deceased). The group was purportedly disbanded by Agent M4 under order of her manager, FB.

This was notable as the event that had brought Makise Kurisu into custody, along with Okabe Rintarou and Hashida Itaru. The latter two were ranked as 'unnecessary' and were thought to have been killed during the raid, although the report didn't state so explicitly.

One death during the raid that _had_ been confirmed was that of a 'Shiina Mayuri'. While her death had been conclusively confirmed with photographic evidence attached, it turned out that the fates of the remaining duo were unclear.

It was assumed at the time that they both had been disposed of by M4, with their bodies being dumped somewhere quiet. Despite the duo's prior contact with M4 (real name 'Kiryu Moeka'), she had given no indication of remorse anytime through the operation and was thought to have finished the job, beyond the shadow of a doubt.

However, confirmation of this proved to be impossible, as it was found that Kiryu Moeka had terminated herself shortly after the incident. This was deemed unusual, as she had remained in contact with her handler throughout the ordeal and, as such, had no real reason to kill herself. Her suicide note was deemed unimportant, and nobody noticed the death of the traitorous woman.

When the chairman went digging through the archives in the back rooms himself, he found the original paper, ragged with the passing of time, at the bottom of a file cabinet cataloguing the career of a 'Yuugo Tennouji' – one of the agency's most esteemed operatives, who had managed to retire some years ago and was currently living with his wife and daughter in an undisclosed location.

Anyway, the note was written in a wavering Kanji on a simple piece of paper that had been yellowed by the passing of time. It was rayed with splotches that marred its wrinkled surface, and crinkled softly as he picked it up. The chairman's grasp of Japanese was poor, but as far as he could tell, the lettering read as follows:

誰かがこれを翻訳した実際に、私が感銘を受けた。  
" _Redemption is not so easily bought, it would seem_."

Anyway, that was all the information that had been present in the physical archives, and there was no mention of any of the characters in this charade in the tattered remnants of the memory banks. Apparently, nobody had given the fate of the suicidal sleeper agent a second thought for the last two decades. Until now.

The chairman sat silent in his chair, musing upon the names he'd researched so feverishly. All the names: those of the dead and the living together. And a couple of people who be either alive or dead…

* * *

The communicator crackled as the lead security guard radioed in. " _Sir, we have activity by the main gate. Looks to be hostile in intent. Please give directives_."

"Report. What kind of activity?"

" _We have a smokescreen popping by the main entrance. Visibility is nil, but it appears to be a regular obfuscation tactic, not neurotoxin-based in nature. Snipers are in position on the rooftop and my assault team is in the lobby, ready to pulverize anyone stupid enough to poke their head inside. Do we take any hostages?_ "

The chairman hesitated a moment. He was intrigued by the convolutions presented to him in the story outlined above. First off, Makise Kurisu had turned out to be a traitor to SERN all along – a surprising development indeed. Who would have thought that such a brilliant mind could make such a poor decision in siding with the rebels? What nugget of information could possibly have triggered such a dramatic reaction? He didn't know, but he'd certainly like to find out.

Secondly, the fact remained that "Hououin Kyouma" had listed Kurisu and Itaru (both former members of the Future Gadget Laboratory) as reasons for this misguided attempt at retribution. The coincidences were just too great to ignore, and the odds that Kurisu had been sending information to Valkyrie were extremely high. Containment was key in a situation like this, so eradicating the whole operation seemed like the best option.

He pushed down a button and responded, "Yes. Make sure to take at least one of them alive for…interrogation. Any information on these intransigents would be very useful to us."

The smirk was audible in the leader's voice. " _Interrogation. Right. In that case, I'll order the boys to make sure one's still breathing._ "

Nodding his head, the chairman leaned back in his chair, paying especially close attention to the security monitor mounted on his desk. There seemed to be nothing but smoke wisps curling about outside the building, with nary a sign of life. Lasers played about through the clouds as the snipers aimlessly hunted for a target, while in the entrance, fingers trembled on creaking triggers. There was not as much as a cough from the assembled troops, everyone scanning the area for potential threats.

Not that the chairman was too worried about his personal safety. After all, the entire facility was designed like a dead-end maze - one way in, one way out. And unfortunately for any would-be attackers, the ' one way in' was closely guarded by a squadron of riflemen armed to the teeth.

Suddenly, a particularly strong breeze blew by, clearing the smoke away for a moment, dissipating the obfuscating tendrils. It rolled back, revealing a single man striding fearlessly towards the enemy, cape fluttering gently in the wind.

No…that was a lab coat.

The chairman's eyes bulged in disbelief as he took in the image on the computer screen. _One man…is he insane? Trying to attack the European base of SERN by himself? Is_ this _the great Hououin Kyouma that was going to destroy SERN with his own two hands?_ How preposterous.

The man simply kept walking, loosely wearing a ridiculous helmet with pointless wires coming out haphazardly. The helmet itself looked something like an upturned colander with electrodes attached to his temples and a television antenna extending upwards from behind the left ear, and seemed to be extremely flimsy. The lunatic had even donned a pair of stereo headphones, as though to accentuate his complete departure from the realm of sanity. His lab coat was immaculately white, and he wore beige pants and a light grey shirt underneath it.

Halting roughly fifty paces from the entrance to the main laboratory, the lone figure raised his hands to his chin, buckling his useless helmet on while watching the laser points dance their way about his chest. Finished securing the headpiece, he spread his arms wide and declared (a suitably maniacal grin adorning his twisted face):

"Behold! It is indeed I, Hououin Kyouma, the lone soldier standing against the forces of evil arrayed against the last noble defender of liberty! A paragon of original spirit, the oldest enemy of the Organization is here! Aware of your malevolent intentions before your plagued society ever came in contact with me, my knowledge is limitless! I can see your thoughts, I can read your minds, I know every pathetic ploy you fiends shall hurl at me!"

Taking an imposing stand, he continued his rant with no heed paid to the mortal peril he was in. "Tremble, you worthless denizens of darkness, for the Bane of SERN has arrived to purge the land of your iniquities!"

A moment of silence followed this statement as his audience pondered the grandiose string of meaningless words that had just poured from the guy's lips. The chairman sat in a daze. _This…this_ _is the_ leader _of the Resistance? How on earth have they survived for so long?_

" _Sir?_ " the squadron leaders voice came in across the line, sounding as befuddled as the chairman felt. " _Do we take him hostage?_ "

Coming to his senses, the chairman grabbed for the mike. "Of course, you fools! Whatever you do, don't kill him!" _We need that information above anything else...as clueless as the man may seem._

The commander sighed into the radio, momentarily feeling a wish, however brief, for the good ol' days, when the prey stood at least a fighting chance before their troops.

 _Ah, well, some people just draw the short straw in life._

He raised a forearm authoritatively, garnering the attention of all his gathered men before barking a command over the radio to the snipers on the rooftop. " _Right, men! Crippling shots only, do not aim for the upper body! Hostile is to be brought in alive and kicking! Do you copy?"_

A chorus of assent arose from the assembled men, who were feeling a good deal more relaxed now that the enemy was visible. After all, what damage could a lone man do against what was essentially a small army?

The snipers set their sights on the target's thighs and shins, prepared to send him down with a few bullets. The injuries about to be sustained by the advancing madman were certain to leave the lunatic crippled.

Taking aim, the entire sniper platoon of ten men took great care in lining the target up. Granted, the target's legs would probably be shredded beyond repair, but a bit of overkill never hurt anyone. Besides, it's not like he needed his legs for interrogation, and after that…well, rumor had it you got wings behind the Pearly Gates up yonder, so it was really a non-issue.

However, a tiny glitch marred the working of this otherwise perfect plan. An over-eager cadet in the first real fight of his life shot a fraction of a moment before the command was given, squeezing his trigger a good half-second before the others in his group.

The premature bullet spiraled steadily through the air, leading the pack of metal balls that followed it. Flying towards the unsuspecting target like a strike from the heavens, the bullet arrowed its brutal way onwards…

It took the intruder solidly in the foot, knocking him sprawling onto the concrete in front of him, right in the path of the swarm of bullets fired by the other snipers.

Several of the projectiles penetrated the flimsy helmet that was covering his skull, but the remainder buried themselves in his torso like nails driven by a giant, releasing a fine crimson mist. His headphones were shattered beyond recognition, shards of plastic flying as he continued falling forward. The sheer momentum of the bullets contorted his falling body, and he landed with his face up.

Not a single one of the bullets had missed the man, who lay in a crumpled heap upon the ground, blood spreading in a slow pool from the pathetic form. His limbs, akimbo as they were, were arranged a caricature of that _danse macabre_ notoriously associated with death. His white lab coat was stained with red tincture while his eyes stared sightlessly at the grey sky. A sickeningly secretive smile lingered smugly, barely discernable on his scarlet-stained face.

One of the snipers on the roof leaned back from his tripod, mildly disappointed by how easy that had been. _Huh. So much for being able to 'see our every thoughts'…or whatever he'd said._

The chairman sat a moment before the screen, stunned by what had just happened. Coming alive, he flapped furiously for the comm link, squawking aggrievedly at the squadron leader: "You bungling idiots! You were supposed to take him in ali-"

 _Message sent._

* * *

 **::::::::::::1.130210::::::::::::**

* * *

 _Worldline: 1.130210β,  
_ _Date: February 1st, 2030_

Taking aim, the entire sniper platoon of ten men took great care in lining the target up. Granted, the target's legs would probably be shredded beyond repair, but a bit of overkill never hurt anyone. Besides, it's not like he needed his legs for interrogation, and after that…well, rumor had it you got wings behind the Pearly Gates up yonder, so it was really a non-issue.

However, a tiny glitch marred the working of this otherwise perfect plan. An over-eager cadet in the first real fight of his life shot a fraction of a moment before the command was given, squeezing his trigger a good half-second before the others in his group.

The premature bullet spiraled steadily through the air, leading the pack of metal balls that followed it. Flying towards the unsuspecting target like a strike from the heavens, the bullet arrowed its brutal way onwards…

 _ **Move.**_

The man on the ground jerked his body a foot to the side, neatly dodging the first bullet (and all the subsequent ones as well). In the breathless instant that followed his miraculous evasion, he regained his footing and turned to face his opponents once more, a merciless gleam twinkling in his eye.

One of the snipers on the roof promptly began panicking. _How on earth could any man move that fast? Could it be… is he really able to 'see our every thoughts'…or whatever he'd said? There's no other way he could have known what was coming!_

As the snipers on the roof deliberated in bafflement, the attacker went into action. Moving rapidly, taking advantage of his foe's (understandable) distraction, the lone man squared himself off and drew a medium-sized pistol from within the voluminous folds of his hideously impractical garment. Sighting along the barrel for a bare moment, he squeezed off half-a-dozen shots in rapid succession.

On the roof, six snipers slumped over their weapons.

There was a moment of stunned silence following this incredible feat of marksmanship, dampened only by the sharp sound of metal on metal as the solitary assassin slotted a new clip into his weapon with a _* chunk*_ , tossing his used one to the floor before continuing his crazed monologue.

"You see? I am aware of your every move! Continued resistance is beyond futile, but you shall not desist! I see this in your minds! For does the foul dragon have the choice of refraining his fight with the white knight? No, he remains doomed to his fate, bound by his destiny to inevitable destruction! So shall it be with all evildoers who dare cross the path of _Hououin Kyouma_!"

Here, the noble speech descended back to (very professional) crazy laughter.

Moistening his lips uneasily with his tongue, the squadron commander found himself shivering at the words the man was saying, as well as the uncanny way the man had known exactly when to move to the side. _What is this man? Can he move fast enough to dodge bullets? Can he actuality read our thoughts and tell our positions? It's almost like he knew exactly when and where the snipers were going to shoot…_

It was time to take drastic measures. He had been planning to keep his own gunmen in reserve, seeing as there was really only one hostile, but the failure of the sniper team had left the squad leader wary of any half-measures. _Best to hit him hard, hit him fast._

The commander had no remaining illusions concerning the expertise of the man approaching them - anyone who could sense a preemptive strike and dodge it so nimbly was certainly a force to be reckoned with. His aim was fairly impressive as well: firing six crack shots so accurately was not easy, and was certainly proof of the man's danger. _He may bleed to death from this, but for now my goal is to keep this facility safe at all costs._ And with that, the commander decided to bring his own men into play.

"Open fire! Aim for the legs!" he shouted, putting the feet of the man in the crosshairs and holding the trigger down. As he did so, his entire force (who had been itching for some action) pumped their weapons as well, following the lead of their commander.

A veritable hail of lead flew towards the man's feet, aiming squarely at his lower body. It was a textbook spread: not a single bullet went off the mark, the rain of fire clustering on his legs for instant crippling. The man kept advancing as dozens of deadly balls flew unerringly towards his body…

Unfortunately, the squad leader had drastically overestimated the fortitude of his opponent. Instead of remaining upright when the bullets struck him, the mystery man displayed less endurance than your average scarecrow. He collapsed like a rag doll at the first strike, curling about his bleeding thigh by bending his upper half down.

Right into the line of fire.

Slamming into his body like a thunderbolt, the stream of bullets took the man apart. His headset shattering to a million pieces under the impact, his helmet virtually disintegrated under the barrage of hot lead. The impact alone knocked him a good six feet back through the air, rolling him another four at least. When he came to a stop at last, he remained motionless on the ground, a crumpled heap of flesh that was mangled beyond all recognition.

The chairman, who had been momentarily stunned by the lone man's incredible escape from the sniper's bullets, waited a beat before angrily calling the squadron leader. "You idiot! What the devil do you think you're playing at? I specifically told you that he wasn't to be kil-"

 _Message sent._

* * *

 **::::::::::::1.130211::::::::::::**

* * *

 _Worldline: 1.130211 β,  
_ _Date: February 1st, 2030_

"Open fire! Aim for the legs!" he shouted, putting the feet of the man in the crosshairs and holding the trigger down. As he did so, his entire force (who had been itching for some action) pumped their weapons as well, following the lead of their commander.

A veritable hail of lead flew towards the man's feet, aiming squarely at his lower body. It was a textbook spread: not a single bullet went off the mark, the rain of fire clustering on his legs for instant crippling. The man kept advancing as dozens of deadly balls flew unerringly towards his body…

 _ **Roll right.**_

Lurching sideways suddenly, the man in the lab coat threw himself to the right, neatly dodging the stream of hot lead that sang by him like a swarm of angry bees. Several gasps and curses came from the machine-gunners, who were baffled once more by this man's preternatural ability to avoid bullets. _What is this guy capable of?_

As he fell, the white-clad man changed his direction in mid-air and tucked into a tight roll, spinning quickly when he contacted the ground. As he unfolded himself into a crouch, he extended one arm, using his momentum to lob a dark object into the midst of the assembled troops.

The commander looked on with semi-detached interest as the hurled projectile sailed through the air, barely visible against the grey backdrop of the concrete structure. The small portion of his mind that wasn't actively panicking idly identified it while watching it bounce about among the horror-struck men.

 _Regular frag grenade. Standard issue. Explosion radius, approximately 4.5 meters – easily enough to take out all the men gathered here. Time till detonation: around 1.2 seconds, judging by when he tossed it up._

 _Chances of survival: nil._

He opened the line to the chairman moments after the explosive landed, watching his men try vainly to back away. Some even turned about entirely, attempting to run for it while knowing full well that they would never make it.

He sighed heavily, his breath sounding like thick static over the connection. The chairman was not exactly a person that he wanted to give his last words to, so he decided not to put too much effort into it. _A very short straw, indeed. To blazes with the 'good ol' days'._

" _Tell my–_ "

The explosion rattled the entire building, felt by the chairman himself as he sat in his office watching the video incredulously. _There's no way…that's just…how did he…was that the whole squad?_

Breaking out of his stupor, he leaned in closer to his mike, trying to contact the commander. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

He was answered by nothing but the raving lunatic continuing his mad rants. "Behold, the awesome power of Hououin Kyouma! The one who holds the strings of fate, the one who dances with the destiny of every man! Today, I judge not a man, but a monstrous entity – SERN! I have deemed them guilty of crimes beyond remuneration, and shall therefore entirely destroy any man who is connected to them!"

Feeling more than a bit worried at this point, the chairman switched to the open communications line and tried to contact any of the soldiers. "Status report. Any surviving troops, respond immediately."

His line crackled fitfully for a few moments, before coming to life as someone made contact. "Mr. Chairman, sir? This is Sniper 4, calling in from the rooftop position. The perpetrator has just tossed some kind of grenade at the ground troops - I have a negative on survivors at the moment. The commander isn't responding, and the lobby appeared to have been cleared entirely. There are four of us left up here, awaiting your orders."

The chairman swore viciously. _Incompetent fools. How were they unable to take down a lone man from a defensive fortification? Unbelievable._ His private diatribe was broken only by the sniper's continued chatter.

"We have a bead on the suspect's forehead at this exact moment, sir. Are we shooting to kill, or are we still trying to apprehend the man?" the man asked, cocking the long-barreled rifle to his shoulder.

The chairman was torn. On the one hand, he desperately needed any information he could get on Valkyrie. On the other hand, of course, the squad leader wasn't responding to any commands and the cameras were playing nothing but static, so perhaps it would be best if the threat was ended here and now.

The computer monitors showed that the entrance was a complete wreck; nothing remaining of the many soldiers who'd been crowded there just moments ago. Furthermore, the single assassin was marching his way to the lobby, appearing fully prepared to barge his way straight into the inner sanctum of the Organization. The chairman came to a decision.

"Terminate the threat immediately. At the moment, the risks associated with keeping him alive far outweigh the loss inculcated by his death. A regrettable outcome, but one that can hardly be avoided."

The sniper didn't respond vocally, but instead took a moment to look at the bodies of his partners who were still lying prone, slumped in the same posture they'd been in. Some even had their fingers still planted on their triggers, reluctant to let go even in death.

He breathed deeply, nerved himself up one last time, and nodded to his remaining companions before turning back to his scope. He checked his aim one last time before pulling the trigger gently, igniting a packet of refined gunpowder and sending a steel-jacketed bullet rocketing towards the advancing killer…

The chairman watched on the cameras as the shot took the man cleanly in the center of his forehead, knocking him back several paces. The entry point was a few centimeters below the rim of the man's helmet, and left a dime-sized hole in his skull as he slowly collapsed forward, brain matter completely destroyed. The following shots to his chest were just decoration – the first bullet had killed him.

"I…we did it. He's dead, sir," said the sniper stupidly, unable to take in the information that they'd just eliminated the leader of the Resistance with a single shot. Not to mention the man who'd taken out six snipers and a squad of prepared soldiers all by himself.

The chairman let out a deep breath before slumping back in his chair. _Well, that was a lot of trouble, but at least the man's dead now._ He spoke aloud to the sniper, who was still dumbstruck. "That was a good shot, soldier. Pity about the information, but it appears that even _he_ wasn't bullet-proo–"

 _Message sent._

* * *

 **::::::::::::1.130212::::::::::::**

* * *

 _Worldline: 1.130212 β,  
_ _Date: February 1st, 2030_

"A regrettable outcome, but one that can hardly be avoided."

He breathed deeply, nerved himself up one last time, and nodded to his remaining companions before turning back to his scope. He checked his aim one last time before pulling the trigger gently, igniting a packet of refined gunpowder and sending a steel-jacketed bullet rocketing towards the advancing killer…

 _ **Dodge.**_

Jerking his head to the side nanoseconds before impact, the attacker remained untouched by the bullet. It buzzed by his ear with an angry whine before embedding itself solidly in the ground behind him. Slivers of concrete splintered up, showering the mysterious figure with fragments and dust.

The snipers took a sharp breath of air in. _He did it again! He knew exactly when the bullet was coming and where it was going to fly. How is he doing it? Even if he listened in to our radio chatter, he couldn't tell exactly where I was aiming._

A horrifying thought occurred to all four them almost simultaneously. _Unless…he really_ can _read minds._

A movement from below broke the sniper team from their paranoid (and illogical) thoughts. The man, this 'Hououin Kyouma' guy, was pulling out his pistol and aiming at something on the roof. _Wait a minute…_

The chairman could only watch on in helpless frustration as the leader of Valkyrie neutralized the last four remaining SERN operatives within the facility, plugging the snipers with neat and efficient shots. The man then pocketed his pistol and strolled nonchalantly into the labyrinth of corridors that was SERN's main base.

Fingers trembling, the chairman activated all the anti-personnel countermeasures (aka 'death traps') that the building contained. He then checked on the status of the backup: still about fifteen minutes out. He checked the monitors again, only to find the intruder making his way to the first set of obstacles, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he was waltzing straight into the lion's den.

The chairman wanted to credit the man's persistence to simple idiocy, but after watching that extraordinary display of fighting outside, he wasn't sure what to think anymore.

 _Who_ is _this man?_

* * *

 **A/N** : This will be a two-shot. Next part will be up in around a month, probably. Around 5000 words are down already, but it's got to be perfect before I post it.

 **Science Facts For Nerds** : Worldline '1.130209' is part of the Beta Attractor Field, which is essentially all the worldlines where two things happened – 1. Suzuha never became 'John Titor' and instead stayed in the revolutionary future; and 2. World War III is fought over Makise's Time Travel Thesis. This particular worldline (and all those near it) are unofficially thought to be the only ones that Okabe's 'Static SMS' message could be viewed in. Viewing the message, of course, leads to a worldline shift to Steins;Gate, erasing the original timeline.

This story was, in fact, not inspired by _Edge of Tomorrow_ , but was rather an idea I've had for quite some time. I was highly amused when the movie came out, believe you me. Talk about coincidences.

This is the first 'T-rated' story I've ever written. Be kind in your reviews, please!

Notice how I implied that you would be leaving a review? Subliminal messaging, folks. Works every time.

I hope.

We'll see soon, won't we?


	2. Psy

Okabe Rintarou strode towards the entrance to SERN boldly, spouting meaningless challenges and clichéd codswallop all the while. He was the perfect image of the quintessential swashbuckling hero, swooping in to save the day yet again. This was Hououin Kyouma, savior of the world, come to bring divine justice upon the oppressors of the weak. This was what a hero should look like.

Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

Within his brilliant mind, Okabe could feel his multiple personalities warring within himself. A natural optimist by birth, his mind had been changed over the last twenty years of constant warfare. Seeing countless allies die and watching evil dominate the world had cracked something deep within Okabe; some essential part of himself.

"I suppose it all started when poor Mayuri was killed", he spoke aloud as he marched straight into the network of traps that made up SERN's home base. "That set this whole disastrous chain of events off. Ever since then, I've been trying to fix things, and it's never seemed to work."

Of course, Okabe knew on an intellectual level that that wasn't exactly true. He'd done some serious research over the last few years, and he knew perfectly well that things had started going wrong when he'd sent that first 'D-Mail' – an unassuming name for something so catastrophic – back in time about Kurisu's death. That's _technically_ when everything started to denigrate into this mess.

Okabe strolled through the large corridors aimlessly, wondering offhandedly when he'd start running into the traps, talking to no one all the while. "Don't worry too much about it," he consoled himself. "Things may look bleak now, but I'm sure everything will work out fine in the end. Just keep moving forward, and–"

 _ **Yeah?**_ A familiar voice in his head cut in. _**And what? I don't believe this.**_ _ **What a sorry load of twaddle. Things have been going wrong for you from Day One, back when this whole debacle was just beginning.**_

He shook his head as he walked down the hallway. "Be that as it may, things are going to be different now. I can fix everything and take down SERN. Daru gave me the power to–"

 _ **Fix everything? And just how do you plan to go about doing that, may I ask? You've let everyone down! All their dreams got smashed to pieces, because of**_ **you** _ **. Not that it matters now, of course, seeing as they're all**_ **dead** _ **anyway!**_

"Wrong", He spoke with sudden conviction. "I've protected everyone. I know I have. Their hopes haven't been shattered. Suzuha will make it. I can fix this. It has to work. It _will_ work. I'll save everyone."

His darker half scoffed incredulously. _**Everyone? Oh, this is rich. What about Mayuri, huh? Innocent, trusting Mayuri. Why didn't you protect her? Care to explain why she's been dead for the last twenty years, haunting our memories at every step?**_

"SERN took away our time machine, I didn't have any way to undo it…"he defended weakly to the air around him, not even believing the words himself.

His accuser carried on relentlessly: _**Besides, what about Ruka? He was terminated by SERN almost fifteen years ago now. You still hold onto that ridiculous**_ **bokken** _ **of his, right next to that**_ **Oopa** _ **cushion. Don't you feel like you failed to protect him very well,**_ **sensei** _ **?**_

He tried to excuse his failure. "It was out of my hands, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time…"

 _ **What about Daru's wife, gone these last fourteen years? Now that was sad – dying in childbirth and leaving her husband alone to raise a feisty young girl in a warzone. Granted, Suzuha's turned out alright: but Daru never really recovered from the blow, and part of him died that day. Why didn't you save her, hmm?**_

Clutching his forehead even as he continued walking. "I did all I could, but it was war and we didn't have the proper medical facilities to –"

 _ **And friendly Faris, taken by that bomb blast. Very sad, I'm sure you'll agree. That was, what…twelve years ago now, isn't it? My, how time does fly. Daru was inconsolable for months after that. He had her pack of RaiNet cards till the end, you know – he put them next to his wife's ashes. Very poetic, that.**_

"Look, I know all this, alright? Why are you telling me? We both know what happened," Okabe snapped testily. "I know who else is dead, OK?"Talking to oneself was supposed to be the first sign of madness, but Okabe had stopped worrying about that when he realized that he was a mad scientist in more than just name now.

 _ **Daru is dead**_ , the voice said flatly, bringing up a fact that stabbed at Okabe's innermost being. _**He died eight years ago and he knew it all along. What you buried two weeks ago was just a shell that's been breathing for the past decade. Face it, Okabe: you failed him, just like you've failed everything else you've ever tried to protect.**_

"OK, you've made your point, now could you _please_ shut up?" Okabe did not want to hear what was coming next. The remembrance of it had haunted his every waking moment for the past month.

 _ **Oh, but we haven't reached the main point yet!**_ The voice carried on silkily, heedless of Rintarou's efforts to silence it. He squinted his eyes, desperately willing for blessed relief from this torture.

 _ **What about Makise Kurisu, hmm? It's only been two weeks, after all. Don't tell me you've forgotten her?**_

Okabe stopped walking. Didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't think. There was just one phrase ringing through his head like the Trump of Doom, damning his tormented soul with every whispered utterance.

 _ **Remember that? This one was all you. But, of course, you already know that, right?**_

He didn't want to face this, to face the accusing words he couldn't defend himself against. He knew what was coming, knew exactly what he was going to hear. There was nothing he could do or say to excuse himself. He wanted to scream, to clutch his head, to curl up in the fetal position, to do anything to make the memories go away; but he endured. This was the reality he lived with.

 _ **You're responsible for her death.**_

 _ **You're responsible for her death.**_

 _ **You're responsible for her death…**_

Okabe really didn't want to think about it, but he found the memories clamoring within him unbidden, their rousing cries too loud to ignore…

* * *

 **Flashback**

* * *

 _Two months ago,  
_ _Valkyrie base_

Daru had been cloistered in the basement for months now, working feverishly, coming up only to check on the latest communiques from Kurisu. The two of them had been trading ideas off-handedly for the past two decades, working on various projects to bring down SERN. All the while, Daru had been working on a large project that he'd kept under wraps, insisting that it would change _everything_. This was on top of everything else the engineer did to keep Valkyrie running.

The former hacker had figured out how to build a time machine that could go back in time to specific worldlines almost thirteen years ago, in the aftermath of his wife's death. He was convinced that if he could turn the clock back, he could save his wife. He'd driven himself to exhaustion, working around the clock while Okabe could only watch in misery, unable to relieve his right hand man's pain.

However, over the long years Daru had recovered slowly, due in large part to the positive effect his bouncy child had had upon the entire revolutionary operation. The time machine project had been stowed away, and both Daru and Okabe had agreed that it was to be developed and used only as a final resort.

Things had seemed to be going well after that – never a good sign.

Okabe wasn't entirely surprised when the Hacker had started coughing up blood – he'd figured that that fate was long overdue to give him his usual kick in the teeth. They'd hurried him to what passed as their infirmary as quickly as the big man had convulsed. The rudimentary X-ray machine was not up to usual industry standards, but they took what they could get. The outcome, regardless, was the same.

It was cancer, an aggressive kind that was well advanced. There was no treatment for this normally, and it was asking too much for the pitiful medical equipment the Resistance had managed to scrounge up to be able to cure the disease. At best they could delay it somewhat, and make his last days more comfortable.

Those had been hard times, almost eight years ago, with Okabe struggling to reconcile himself to the fact that his firmest supporter and companion in the war was dying of cancer. He'd spent several nights staring blankly at the blood test results and X-ray sheets, just staring at the printed letters that told of the death that was coming soon.

Daru himself took the news rather philosophically, although he frequently expressed a regret that he wouldn't be able to watch Suzuha grow up. Nonetheless, he swore that he'd create a world that she could grow up in without him, and threw himself into his work with redoubled effort, all too aware that he didn't have much time left. Life fell into a muted panic over the years, with Daru working on his secret project almost religiously and Okabe organizing the scattered and dissipating Resistance.

Lately, Okabe had been calculating, as a mental exercise in his free time, exactly how his D-Mails had negatively influenced the past, bringing SERN to power. His exchanges with Kurisu had given him a good deal of expertise in the field of worldlines, and he had gotten fairly proficient at working out the tangled threads of his past. He was mildly intrigued to find that in order for SERN to have never arisen; two conditions had to be met in his hypothetical construct:

Firstly, Makise Kurisu would have to live. Her death was the single point to which Okabe could attribute almost all of the blame for the rotten present that he inhabited. Had she lived, somehow, he found that it would have been impossible for SERN to rise to power – according to his calculations, at least.

Secondly, Dr. Nagabachi's papers (stolen from his genius daughter) could not be allowed to reach Russia under any circumstances. Perhaps the plane could crash, or the cargo could burn – whatever the case, the paper had to be destroyed. According to the theoretical flow of time Okabe had diagrammed, these two eventualities would have to be met in order to quell SERN.

In his younger days, he would have proclaimed that fulfilling these two prerequisites would have automatically led to "Steins;Gate", or the hypothetical "perfect worldline". Now, jaded as he was by war and strife, he could only state that in this alternate world, SERN would have not held the sort of power it did in the current world.

Of course, such thinking was purely theoretical. Okabe had known, of course, that in his original timeline, Makise Kurisu was dead, killed by a stab wound. After all, he'd seen her lying on the floor and had sent the first D-Mail back in time, triggering this whole tangled disaster. So, speaking from the results of his predictions, SERN was guaranteed to rise to power in the first place anyway. This was one of the main reasons he'd never used the time machine himself – Makise Kurisu was dead even in the original timeline. He'd seen the body.

 _Naturally, if Kurisu wasn't really dead, things would have been different. Of course, that's completely impossible…unless…but that would need…_

Dismissing such wishful thoughts from his head, Okabe turned his attention back to the newest message from Kurisu. He frowned. _Level 5 clearance is required? Daru was asking for information that was beyond even Kurisu's capacity to access? What kind of data could possibly be that sensitive?_

Clumping up the stairs, Daru clambered from the basement to check on the mail. His formerly round body had shrunken to a shadow of its former self, and his hands were rough and calloused with work. Staggering into the room, he addressed Okabe with a voice hoarse from disuse:

"What'd she say?"

Okabe frowned as he perused the contents of the letter one more time. "She says that the information is too classified for even a person placed as high in the Organization as her to access. She apologizes, and says she knows it's just one part, but says that it's simply too risky for her to get."

Daru's eyes widened. "She didn't get it? But it's the last bit!" Marching forward in a sudden fit of energy, the dying man grabbed Okabe's shoulder with bony fingers. "I'm so close to finishing! She knows how important my project is, just tell her to take the gamble!"

Okabe's eyes narrowed. "You want me to ask her to risk everything for this one piece of information?"

Daru was close to begging. "You don't understand! It could fix everything! You'll understand when you see it, Okabe, but I _have_ to have that diagram!"

Okabe looked at his friend. The man was a wreck, a skeleton held together by a thin covering of tightly stretched skin. The only thing that proved he was alive was the indomitable fire burning in the man's eyes. Sighing heavily, Okabe came to a decision.

"Fine. I'll tell her to take the risk anyway."

They received only two more messages from her after that. One was the schematic that Daru had asked her to get, a blueprint of a rather complicated superconducting quadropole electromagnet. It had been heavily protected, but she'd managed to sneak it out somehow.

The other…the other was a short transmission she'd managed to get out right before the SERN guards broke into the LHC compartment and gunned her down. It was…personal.

They all took the loss in their own individual ways. Daru threw himself into his work with a renewed vitality, fully aware that he had very little time left. Okabe was left to mourn Kurisu on his own, feeling the ties to his former life snap away one by one. He was faced with the agonizing realization that Daru, his one remaining link to his past life as a dropout student above a TV store, was fading fast. He felt his already damaged psyche twist and warp under the immense stress he faced, and realized with sickening dread that he was losing all hope.

When he found Daru dead downstairs two weeks later, he was hardly surprised. The man lay at his workbench as though sleeping, a folded letter clutched limply in his rigid fingers.

* * *

 _Okabe,_

 _If you are reading this, I know I'm dead._

 _Wow, how clichéd a beginning is that? For all I know, you ferreted this up from the pocket I'm hiding it in, and I'm still alive right behind you. If so, please disregard this message, oh great Hououin Kyouma, and continue on as though you hadn't seen this._

 _However, the odds are that I'm no longer with you._

 _It's been a long time coming, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm kind of relieved by this turn of events. Mayuri, Faris, Yuki, Kurisu…honestly, I'm kind of sick of the way things have gone. The world as we know it is complete trash: the only things I actually regret leaving behind are you and Suzuha. Take care of her, OK?_

 _Listen, remember how you said that only two conditions were necessary to surpass the perfect 1% divergence barrier? Makise Kurisu must live, and her papers must be destroyed. Now I've been thinking about that for a long time. Oh, I know I'm no physicist (I left that to you two lovebirds), but I've realized something. You say that Kurisu was dead in the first timeline, and that there's no hope anyway. I say, maybe she wasn't. Or, at least you can make it that way._

 _Using the time machine, if you went back and faked her death to yourself, you could probably keep her alive and kick off this series of events. That would attain_ Steins;Gate _(since I'm dead, I'll just call it what you like), and would save the first worldline you came from. It's just the kind of crazy plan you love – do you like it?_

 _I don't really know what'll happen to this world if you do that, but I can't honestly say that I care all that much. For one thing, the last twenty years have been pretty miserable. For another, I'm dead. Not much that can make things worse for me, bro._

 _Anyway, that's it. I've finished the last part of my design. Doesn't sound like a big deal, right? Thanks to Kurisu, I was been able to finish my project, although it won't matter anymore if you decide to change things._

 _You have two choices, old friend. You can work to save this world using the weapon I've created, or you can destroy this world and rebuild another one by faking Kurisu's death._

 _Makise helped me create a Large Hadron Collider in the basement. That probably explains the giant tangle of equipment you see behind you, as well as all the classified data I had her collect. She knew what I was working on, so she was happy to help. It took me over a decade of grueling work to finish, but the result was well worth it. SERN no longer has a monopoly on time travel – you've got your own time machine, buddy. Use it well._

 _On the desk, you'll see a microwave and some radio headphones. Remember how we almost managed to send a person's frontal lobe back in time, right before Mayuri got shot? I made a few adjustments to Makise's original design, meaning that you can send your mind back in time. Even better, it's wireless now. No more tangled cords._

 _That's not all though. Listen, and prepare to be amazed. On the run-down old computer on the desk (how it's survived this long, I'll never know) you will find a block of code labeled "_ Immortal _". Hook it up to the microwave and watch the magic happen._

 _Basically, the computer'll order the headphones to copy your brain patterns every half-second and send it back. The program will then store the information in its RAM, ready to be used instantaneously. If ever your brain waves stop functioning; i.e., if and when you die, the computer will send a copy of the last reading it received approximately 5 seconds back in time through a mini-black hole opened by your new LHC. This essentially 'resets' your life five seconds with your memories, hopefully allowing you to evade whatever had killed you in the first place._

 _Pretty cool, huh? I'm counting on you to use this to take down SERN. Of course, you could also decide to turn the clock back by twenty years and just kill the problem at the root. The choice is yours._

 _Your friend eternally,_

 _Hashida Itaru._

Tears rose unbidden to the lone avenger's eyes as he read these words by the flame of a guttering candle. He smiled twistedly, a broken movement of his mouth. He flipped the paper over, only to find some writing scrawled hastily across the back of the sheet.

 _I think it's time. I just put the last piece in, and I don't think I'll last long now. Pity. I would've liked to see Suzuha one last time._

 _Whatever you do, know that I'm proud of you._ _Those years at the Future Gadget Laboratory were the best of my life, and I wouldn't trade them in for anything._ _Being your right hand man was the greatest honor that could ever have been bestowed upon me._

 _The real ending,_

 _Hack._

Okabe sat in silence for a few minutes before making up his mind. Trudging up the stairs back into the main facility, he pulled out his cell phone camera and ensconced himself in a suitably shadowy part of the laboratory. He had an SMS to record.

In the end, Rintarou had decided to take both options his friend had given him. He would send Suzuha back in time to alter the worldines, and he would take down SERN himself. With this goal in mind, he planned to destroy the SERN bases in North America and Japan by himself, then go to France to finish it off.

He considered leaving with Suzuha, just to see if it would work, but decided against it. Some part deep within himself, beneath all the layers of chicanery and self-deception, the phantom of an optimistic young student knew the truth. Knew that he no longer existed, and that there was nothing left.

He couldn't go back to the way things were.

He had died long ago.

* * *

 **Flashback End**

* * *

Okabe casually walked around a corner, hands in his pockets and eyes closed as he hummed a quiet ditty. He traipsed down the corridor with nary a care in the world, nonchalantly tripping two separate sensors with his blundering feet. A sentry turret down the hall immediately opened fire, while the air vents began leaking an odorless vapor. He continued strolling forward unconcernedly before taking three bullets to the chest and a lungful of an aerosolized fentanyl derivative that immobilized his limbs as his shredded organs bled out onto the ground.

 _Message sent_.

Okabe casually walked around a corner, hands in his pockets and eyes closed as he hummed a quiet ditty. He traipsed down the corridor with nary a care in the world, nonchalantly skipping over the concealed sensors hidden in the floor. The sentry turret failed to fire, having never been activated, and the canister of fentanyl in the air vents never opened.

At the corner, he pulled a crude map of the facility out of his lab coat and looked about for the correct way, eventually going to the right. This time, he made it a few more steps before stepping onto a pressure plate sunken into the floor quite cleverly. His hands remained in his pockets as the ground fell out from under him, tossing him into a 600-feet deep pit. He sustained free fall for a solid seven seconds before colliding with the ground. The accumulated trauma of a splintered skull and a shattered spinal cord resulted in instant death for the man.

 _Message sent_.

This time, he made it a few more steps before stepping onto a pressure plate sunken into the floor quite cleverly. His hands remained in his pockets as the ground fell out from under him, tossing him into a 600-feet deep pit. He sustained freefall for two seconds, whereupon he withdrew his pistol from his sleeve and shot himself neatly in the temple. He didn't even wince as the bullet exited the other side of his head, and his body was limp when he crashed into the ground.

 _Message sent_.

At the corner, he began to pull a crude map of the facility out of his lab coat, halted, then immediately started going to the right. This time, he stepped around the pressure plate carefully, hands still in his pockets, looking for all the word like a pharmacist out on a jaywalk through the park.

In the next corridor, it was a rather nasty flamethrower to the face; the one after, several unpleasantly large cleavers swinging from the ceiling; and so on through the maze. Okabe traversed through all of these with relative ease and let his mind wander as he tiredly repeated the cycle of death.

 _Suzuha should have found the time machine about now. She's probably working out how to pilot the thing at the moment, which is good. I hope there's –_

A spray of acid caught the side of his face, and the convulsions almost overtook his motor functions before he managed to shoot himself. He'd certainly avoid _that_ lever next time 'round.

 _I hope there's enough fuel to last the journey. If the past me can't save Makise somehow, the repercussions could be dire for all future timelines. Including this one._

Inter-timeline math was difficult, but Okabe was probably the most capable man now alive for such problems. He'd had twenty years to mull these questions over, and he finally felt like he'd found a potential way out of the SERN timeline, if such a thing was even possible.

 _Even so, it_ is _quite a stretch of the imagination: sending a message back in time to myself in the hope that I can – essentially – fool myself. Hypothetically, such an action would result in the destruction of his own timeline,_

 _ **Besides, it's not as though we'd miss this existence very much. It's been a pretty miserable ride throughout.**_

Okabe rationally considered the thought that he may very well be giving up his very existence by sending Suzuha back in time, but found that he would be legitimately fine with destroying everything. Perhaps twenty years ago, when he was still rosy-eyed and optimistic, he would have thought twice before condemning his entire worldine. That side of him was gone, though.

First things first, though. He still had unfinished business with this world. After he was through with that, he could fade out of existence in peace.

* * *

The chairman watched, goggle-eyed, as the mysterious intruder managed to bypass every single obstacle in his path. The monitors showed the man hopping daintily between sensors and tripwires almost whimsically, airily dicing with death at every turn.

It wasn't possible that blueprints of the facility had been leaked – some of the traps weren't marked on any plans, and had never been triggered before. And yet this man was just avoiding them casually, without the slightest hint of fear or effort. Indeed, if anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

At the rate this "Hououin Kyouma" was plowing through the traps, he'd be in the inner sanctum in less than a minute. There was no backup on hand and every safeguard in place was ineffectual against the baffling immunity of the intruder. It was almost as though he was untouchable, or that he really _could_ see the future. The chairman's confidence was disappearing as rapidly as his troops had, and visions of the pit yawning before him filled his mind.

But there was no time for such musings at the moment. Moving efficiently, hands shaking only the tiniest bit, the chairman leaned forward and opened the lowermost drawer of his desk and removed a small pistol. Double-checking the safety and load, he clutched it firmly in his hands and aimed for the door. Soon, he could hear the echoing footsteps in the hallway outside, coming to a halt immediately outside.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the door swung open. A man in a lab coat stepped in.

Squinting his eyes, the chairman squeezed off six shots in quick succession. It was a perfect spread of shots, but the bullets just seemed to waft around the man, who bent and swayed as though he could see the bullets' paths.

 _Impossible._

The gun fell clattering from nerveless fingers. The chairman stumbled backwards, grasping behind him for support. He found none, and collapsed bonelessly into his chair. He scrabbled madly for a weapon of any sort on his desk, desperately searching for something to fend off the advancing man in the lab coat.

"N-no! Stay back! Stay back, damn you!"

The avenging figure paid no heed, coming closer like a banshee rising from the vapors of hell. A maniacal grin split his face like the mask of a demon.

Okabe Rintarou ripped at his stab wound.

Blood spattered the floor as he howled in pain before dragging himself away.

Okabe blinked. Even as he stood over the chairman, deep within the heart of SERN itself, ready to sever the head of the serpent, he paused for a moment to stare at something at the back of the room. _She did it, then._

The chairman, cowering on the chair below him, twisted his neck hesitantly to see what had stayed the hand of the mysterious attacker. A glimpse of white, a few muted twinkles, then suddenly the room was flooded with floating white orbs.

Okabe stared deep into them, enraptured entirely. Moving slowly, he unbuckled his helmet and let it fall to the ground, unnecessary now. He reached up with one arm and watched with bedazzled eyes as he spread his fingers against the pure light of the end.

 _This is it._

The room began to be devoured by the consuming light, fading away into the radiance. The chairman scurried around frantically before the light took him – and he was gone.

 _This is how it ends._

He watched with mild curiosity as his fingers vanished into the brilliance, tilting his head as he began to fade. He was alone now, and it seemed to him that he was standing on a field of newly fallen snow. The faces of the lost smiled at him, and he hastened to meet them.

 _El…_

 ** _It's so beautiful._** He smiled as the light covered him completely, lingering for a few more moments upon the breaking universe.

 _Psy…_

The light blinked out suddenly, and the darkness coated all.

 _ **CONGROO**_

* * *

 **A/N** : For inspiration, I read The Cold Equations, by Tom Godwin. The depressing vibes completely inundated my own mood. Written in 1954, still gets me down every time I read it.


End file.
